The Count of Six
by LynstHolin
Summary: Drarry with lots of plot. When young witches are being murdered, Shacklebolt asks Draco Malfoy to go undercover to catch the killer.


This is a sequel to a previous fic, 'The Count of Five,' but you don't really need to read the other one first as long as you know that 1) Draco has obsessive-compulsive disorder and 2) it's basically 'CSI: Wizards' XD

Warnings: Mild raciness

...

Draco walked, in five sets of five steps, to the fireplace in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor. He counted to five, tossed in a handful of Floo powder, counted to five again, then stepped into the green flames. When he saw the Ministry's atrium before him, he started to count to five again. "Oi!" A body hit him from behind, knocking him forward. "Get out of the bloody way, Malfoy!"

Draco took five steps into the atrium and stopped to count again.

"Bleedin' nutter," a short, round man muttered as he walked out of the fireplace behind Draco.

Carefully counting his steps, Draco took an elevator to the second level. He was about to enter his office when Shacklebolt called his name. "We're having a meeting in the Owl Conference Room, and we need you there."

"Has another one been found?"

Shacklebolt nodded grimly. "You'll learn more at the meeting." The Minister strode away briskly, his scarlet robes billowing.

Still counting, Draco walked down the corridor to a wooden door inlaid with a mosiac depicting a Great Gray Owl. A dozen pairs of eyes stared at him as he paused at the threshold for another count of five. A couple of Aurors elbowed each other and snickered, not noticing that Harry Potter was looking at them with narrowed eyes. Theo Nott, who was sitting in a corner far apart from everyone else, raised a hand in greeting. Draco walked to a chair, patted his hair that was far too short to get mussed, and straightened his already-straight collar. Just before he sat, he drew the skirts of his robes tight against his rump and the backs of his legs to prevent wrinkling; Harry, who was sitting behind him, smiled and bit his lip.

Shacklbolt stood at the front of the room next to a white screen. He tapped the screen with his wand and a picture of a lovely young woman appeared. She had long black hair that she flipped around as she danced for the camera, wearing a mini-dress and spike heels. "This is Milagra Dos Santos, a twenty-year-old witch that vanished from the vicinity of the Purple Pegasus, located in the night club district of Diagon Alley, at eleven o'clock on the night of March fourteenth." Shacklebolt tapped the screen again just as Milagra blew a kiss, and the picture changed to one of a withered corpse. "She was discovered behind a junk shop this morning at four o' clock. Whatever happened to her in the twenty-nine hours that she was missing, it wasn't pretty."

With another tap on the screen, pictures of five women, including Milagra, appeared on the screen, still vividly alive. "All of these witches have been murdered in within the last month. You will notice that they were all young, attractive, and dressed in a glamorously sexy Muggle style. Our first thought was a vampire, but there are no bite marks, and it's not just their blood that's been drained. It's as if their entire _essence_ has been consumed. If a vampire did this, it's a type of vampire we've never seen before."

Hermione Granger stood up. "I've spent weeks researching, trying to find anything like this in the history of wizard-dom, and I've come up with nothing. We're looking for a dangerously innovative dark wizard. If anyone has done this before, they've kept it well-hidden."

"What do you think he's trying to accomplish?" Harry asked.

Shacklebolt shook his head. "At this point, we'd just be guessing. Perhaps you have some theories, Nott?"

"He may be punishing them for being too Mugglish in appearance. He may just have a grudge against beautiful women. Or he may have created some horrible ritual along the lines of making a Horcrux."

"Thank you, Nott. Well, we're going to go at this with a new approach. We're going to put a decoy out there. Someone who might attract the killer's attention."

Hermione raised her hand. "I'm volunteering to be the decoy."

"Sorry. We're not going to allow a woman in on this," Shacklebolt said firmly.

Hermione turned a bit red. "That's sexist!" she huffed.

"Too bad," one of the men who'd snickered at Draco said, "I wouldn't mind seeing Granger in a short skirt."

"Put a cork in it, Jenkins. The wands of the victims were found close to where they disappeared. He's disarming them. A man will have a much better chance of being able to fight the assailant off wandless. We want to catch this monster, but we don't want to take unnecessary risks."

"So you'll give some bloke Polyjuice?" Jenkins asked.

"You should know better than that. A man who uses Polyjuice Potion to take on the form of a woman will have the same strength as a woman. Charms and glamours aren't a good option, either. They're too easy to undo. We have costuming and make-up people from the Diagon Alley Players theater to... well, make a woman of one of you. Malfoy, they'll be waiting in your office at eight o'clock tonight."

Draco's mouth gaped open. "Bu-bu-but why me?"

"It's been determined that, of all the men working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, you're the one that would make the most attractive woman."

Draco snapped his jaw shut. Jenkins and his buddy chortled.

"You haven't been on the job that long, Malfoy," Shacklebolt continued, "but you've shown remarkable dedication to the goal of putting dark wizards in Azkaban. I'm sure you will be able to sacrifice a little personal dignity to put an end to-" Shacklebolt tapped the screen, and photographs of the desiccated bodies of all five women appeared, "-_this_."

Staring at the pictures, Draco chewed on the inside of his cheek. He nodded.

"Good man. Now, we'll need an Auror to keep an eye on Malfoy from a discreet distance."

Harry sat up from his slouch. "I'll do it."

"Sorry, Potter, we have a strict policy against couples working together in the field."

Jenkins and his crony snickered again.

"But we're just dating. We're not a couple yet," Draco said. Harry raised an eyebrow at 'yet'.

More snickering. Shacklebolt glared at the two hyenas. "And it won't be either of you two, either. Jenkins, Franklin, you'll both be doing paperwork for a month for disrespecting valued members of our team."

After ten more minutes of briefings, the meeting ended. Draco, forehead lined and eyes not seeing what was around him, was too distracted to hear Jenkins hiss, "A Death Eater and a queer and _mad_. Shacklebolt must be losing it, hiring the likes of you."

...

When he opened his office door that night, Pansy Parkinson and Dennis Creevey were in there with garment bags and make-up cases. Pansy had a bohemian Cleopatra look going, and Dennis was wearing his shirt unbuttoned almost to his navel. "Strip for us, Draco," Pansy chirped. He pulled off his robes and carefully hung them on the coatrack. "Boxers, too. Femininity starts with the underwear, darling."

Completely naked, Draco self-consciously covered himself with his hands as Pansy and Dennis gawked at him like he was an exceptionally delicious-looking cupcake in a baker's window. "Start with these." Pansy held up a pair of knickers.

"They appear to already have part of a body already in them," Draco said.

"Padding to give you womanly curves."

"Ahhhh, what do I do with my... man parts?"

Dennis smirked. "There's a little trick. I'll help you with it."

Draco sighed. "Just tell me how to do it."

...

Two hours later, the office door opened, and a tall woman with long, platinum blonde hair emerged. Her white skirt was barely long enough to be legal, and her nails were painted scarlet. Her red sleeveless turtleneck hugged her D-cups. Black eye-liner made her silver eyes look huge, and her lips were painted vermillion. A tiny fur shrug was her only concession to the chilly weather.

She looked startled as a small crowd began to hoot and whistle. "Shake it, Malfoy!" someone called. Another wizard started singing 'She's A Lady.'

"I'll see you all in Hell," Draco muttered as he minced forward in peep-toe stilettos.

Theo elbowed his way forward and held out a vial. "Drink it all down. It'll give you a woman's voice for twelve hours."

Shacklebolt quieted the spectators, zapping a couple of the more obnoxious ones with a shocking hex. "All the women disappeared when they went out for a smoke or a breath of fresh air, so you'll have to stand out on the street. I hope you're up on your warming charms. Armbruster here will keep an eye one you."

Armbruster was a hulking young Auror dressed all in black. He nodded to Draco.

"Now you've had your fun, everyone _go home_," Shacklebolt commanded.

"Aw, I was gonna ask her out dancing," said one wag. Shacklebolt zapped him on the butt.

Harry emerged through the retreating crowd, grinning. "If I was into women, I'd think you were pretty sexy right now."

"I look like a prostitute."

Harry put an arm around Draco and kissed him on the cheek. "An _expensive_ prostitute."

"Shut up," Draco said, but he was smiling.

...

Draco shifted from foot to foot, looking irritable as the cigarette he held burned down. "Someone as pretty as you shouldn't be alone," a drunken wizard proclaimed, trying to put his arm around Draco's waist.

"Bugger off!" Draco gave the man a shove. The drunk called Draco an ugly name and wobbled off. Two minutes later, another inebriate was eyeing him up. Draco gave him an arctic glare. "Don't even think about it." The man called him the same exact name as the previous wizard had. "Couldn't you at least try to be original?" Draco shouted after him. His voice was a bit husky, but it definitely sounded like a woman's.

"_Men_, eh?" Draco turned. A middle-aged woman was walking toward him. "Hard to believe, looking at me now, but I used to get that sort of thing all the time, too. Could you spare a fag?" Draco gave her one out of his tiny gold purse. As she lit it, the glow from her lighter revealed the deep lines in her face and neck. She exhaled through her nose, then said something unintelligible.

"Pardon?" Draco said. His cigarette fell from his fingers.

"Put your wand behind your back and drop it," the woman said conversationally. Draco nodded and obeyed. "Follow me." The woman took his hand and led him into the nearest alley.

...

In a dank, windowless, candle-lit room, black-lined gray eyes stared dreamily at nothing. They blinked once, twice. They squinted shut, then opened wide, darting around wildly. Draco tried to sit up, but he was bound by ropes to a rough wooden plank. Overhead was a glass tank that glowed white; five small dots within it glowed a little more brightly. A curling tube extended down from the tank, nearly touching Draco's forehead. He tried straining against the ropes, and was hit with a paralyzing hex.

The middle-aged woman loomed over him. "Nothing personal, dear, you just have something I need." She flourished her wand at the tank, and the tube lowered, latching onto Draco's forehead. Wisps of glowing white floated up the tube. "It's very heart-breaking for a lovely woman to lose her looks. You won't have to go through it now. You'll live on, in a way. I'll take in your essence, along with those of the five other beauties I harvested, and I'll be beautiful for another hundred years."

Draco tried to scream, but could only gurgle.

The light cast around the room by the tank turned from white to aquamarine. The woman looked up; the white glow had turned blue. "_What did you do_?" She grabbed Draco by the hair and the wig came off, along with the double-sided Spello-tape that was holding it on his nearly-hairless scalp. She yanked the turtleneck down, face twisting when she saw his Adam's apple. A hand slipped underneath the turtleneck discovered the padded bra. "_A man_! It's ruined now!" She blasted the tank with her wand, smashing it against the far wall. Shards of glass cut Draco's arms and face.

A pounding came from upstairs. "Don't get too excited," the woman said to Draco, "My house is strongly warded." There was a splintering sound, and then two pairs of feet overhead. The woman cursed.

"I think it came from the cellar," said a man, "We'd better see if anyone needs help." There was another splintering crash, and footsteps pounding down stairs. The woman whirled, wand out, but she was knocked down by a stunning spell.

"Well, look who it is." Jenkins and Franklin smirked down at Draco. "Shacklebolt's got everyone from the Ministry searching all of Diagon Alley for you. He even took us off paperwork duty," Jenkins said, "A waste of time and money, to my thinking, but I'm not in charge. Well, nice seeing you again, Malfoy. Have a nice day." Jenkins helped the woman to her feet. "Sorry, ma'am. I disabled your wards. You may want to fix that."

"What are you doing, Jenkins?" Franklin asked.

"Letting that woman give the filthy Death Eater what he deserves. Come on." Jenkins pushed a shocked-looking Franklin toward the stairs. Draco twitched feebly against his bonds.

The woman went upstairs to repair her doors and strengthen her wards. When she came back down, she tried to put the tank back together, but it was beyond her. "Damn. Once I start aging, my powers start to wane. And, thanks to you, it'll be weeks before I can get back to the way I should be. So, you're from the Ministry, eh? Looks like your co-workers really care about you a lot." She took his left arm and rubbed the concealer off his Dark Mark. "Tsk tsk tsk. Another follower. Another sheep. That child Voldemort tried to reel me in, but I'm far too big of a fish for the likes of him to land." She smiled a terrible smile. "You don't get to be nearly nine-hundred years old by joining in with _causes_." She paused, looking at Draco and twisting a lock of gray hair. "You'll have to die, of course. I'd like to come up with a use for you first, though. It'd be a shame to just waste your youth and beauty."

Draco raised a hand that just flopped back down immediately.

The woman took a flask and a cloth out of her pocket. She dampened the cloth with liquid from the flask and smoothed it over Draco's cuts. "Dittany. I want you to look nice for whatever is going to happen to you."

The woman used another paralyzing spell and a muting hex on him, then climbed the stairs, snuffed the candles with a flick of her wand, and locked the cellar door, leaving Draco alone in the dark.

...

Panicked breathing. The squeaking of ropes. The creak of a board. "One-two-three-four-five-one-two-three-four-five-one-two-three-four-five." The breathing quickened at the sound of footsteps above, moving toward the cellar door. The door opened and the candles were lit. Draco winced and shut his eyes tight.

"Here he is, just as I described," the woman said.

'"Hmm, yes, he is quite nice looking," said a man. Draco squinted his eyes open. It was an ancient wizard, his hair and long waxed mustache dyed back. He ran a hand up one of Draco's thighs, digging in his claw-like fingernails. Draco shrank from the touch. "But I'll have to knock a bit off the price for the Dark Mark." The horrid old man lifted the turtleneck. "And for these scars on his chest."

"You can barely see them," the woman protested, "and some people find scars sexy."

"One Espiritus tank to replace the one you ruined, a house elf, and a hundred Galleons. Take it or leave it."

"You're robbing me, Barnabas."

"The longer he's tied up down here, the lower his value will get."

The woman sighed. "Fine."

"What are you going to do with me?" Draco asked in a whisper.

The wizard let out a creepy giggle. "I'm going to wear you. Witches just don't find this decrepit old carcass of mine appealing any more."

Draco stared hard up at the ceiling, fists clenched. "_One-two-three-four-five. One-two-three-four-five_."

_Crash_! _Crash_! Booted feet came running down the cellar stairs. Barnabas and the woman hurled hexes, and someone was hit, but the two dark wizards were taken out by _Incarcerous_ spells.

Harry bent over Draco, face creased with anxiety. "Are you all right?"

"I am, now that you're here," Draco whispered.

Harry's face smoothed out. "Oh, thank Merlin." He touched his wand to Draco's throat, severed the ropes with his wand, and gave Draco the sort of embrace not usually given to a co-worker. "When Armbruster admitted that he lost track of you, and we found your wand, and then you were missing all night... I was so worried."

"How did you find me?" Draco said in a normal voice as he nestled into Harry's arms.

"Franklin. His conscience got to him. Jenkins has lost his job, and he may be spending some time in Azkaban, too. If I support you, can you walk?"

"I think so."

"We'll get some food and a fortifying potion in you, and I'll take you home." Harry took Draco's stilettos off and threw them in a corner (not caring that he hit Barnabas in the noggin), then sat on the floor and took his boots off. He laced the boots onto Draco's feet. Putting his arms around the blond man, Harry helped him off the plank and up the stairs.

...

Narcissa leapt onto her son, nearly knocking him off his feet. "I was so worried, sweetheart! I couldn't sleep a wink." She pulled back and surveyed his outfit. "That's what they had you wearing? It's rather tarty."

Harry helped Draco up to his room. "Need help getting undressed?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Draco laughed ruefully. "I honestly don't think I can get this skirt off by myself. It's far too tight."

Harry knelt and helped roll it down. He stared at the padded underpants. "That is horrifying."

"Take them off." Draco was trying to escape from the bra.

"Gladly." Harry yanked the offending garment down to mid-thigh, then paused to bite Draco on the rump.

Draco yelped. "Animal!"

"Sorry. It just looked so tasty." Harry kissed the red mark he'd made as he pulled the underpants all the way off.

A huge, steaming tub appeared, and Draco climbed into it. Grinning widely, Harry took his clothes off and joined him, sitting facing Draco. Harry lightly traced the scars on the other man's chest with one finger. Draco shivered. "I marked you," Harry said.

"I guess that means I'm yours."

They kissed a little, then Harry turned Draco around so that they were spooned together. "Can I ask you something personal?"

Draco laughed softly. "We're taking a bath together. How much more personal could things get between us?"

Harry ran a finger across Draco's collar-bones. "What started you with the counting?"

"Mmm." Draco's eyes closed, and he was quiet for several moments, just resting in Harry's arms. "When I was trying to fix the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement, I would pick up random things. A book, a bird cage, small things like that. I would put something in the Cabinet, I would close the Cabinet, and, before I opened it to see if the object had vanished, I would count to five."

Harry kissed the back of Draco's neck softly. "Hermione says the reason you're so dedicated to your job is that you never want another boy to be victimized by a dark wizard the way you were."

"Granger may be as much of a genius as Theo." Draco let out a soft sigh and fell asleep.

...

Theo was agitated. He paced around the office waving his arms. " A _woman._ I can't believe I didn't think of that. It's not as if it's unprecedented. Elizabeth Bathory, sixteenth century Hungarian countess, preserved her beauty by bathing in the blood of virgins."

"Everything turned out fine. I'm all right, and that woman is going to Azkaban," Draco said as he sorted through documents.

"It's not fine! I almost got one of my best friends killed! I've got to do better!" Theo was distracted from his self-flagellation by excited shouts from the hallway. He walked over to the door to investigate.

"Get her, you besotted fools! She's a criminal!" Hermione yelled.

A veela in a lavender slip-dress was prancing down the hall on dainty bare feet, surrounded by male Aurors trying to impress her.

"Nott, close your mouth and help!" Hermione commanded.

"I'm the best potions maker in the world," Theo said as he caught up with the veela. "I'm getting quite good at alchemy, too. Any day now, I'll be turning lead into gold. And I'm a certified genius."

Completely immune to the veela's charms, Draco remained in his chair and pulled a scrap of parchment out of his robes. He smiled as he read the six words written on it: 'I think we're a couple now.'


End file.
